


Washed Up Memories And Scratched Up Recordings

by tzingfung



Category: Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Best Friends, Comfort, Crush at First Sight, Dystopia, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, References to loss, YouTube, i guess, more of a friendship than lovers trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzingfung/pseuds/tzingfung
Summary: He was the light of her day, a fading image cascading on a screen, broken by distance and remnants of time. Happiness was overdue until he handed it over to her in the nick of time.





	Washed Up Memories And Scratched Up Recordings

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on Christmas Day for my friend who was going through a rough time at work and keeping positive. I wasn't ready or sure if I wanted to post this until now. Therefore, I hope this fic gives some small wisdom, an awakening of happiness, or acknowledgement of your own hard time, and help improve such. 
> 
> It has quite a dystopian feel to it but I hope you enjoy nevertheless.

**i.**

* * *

  
Strips of dusk with dusty reds and molten golds brandished the sky. It was early, too early. Your eyelids slapped back in protest, prolonging sleep as much as it could get and your neck tied up in a series of knots from the rough sleeping habits from the night before. You feel your eyes flicker to each resident of the train you currently inhabit with, to the next, each looking much like the other; murmuring, brandless zombies itching for their beds and the ride home. You feel for them, you were in the exact same position, feeling the cold of continuity day in, day out, the same old tasteless grey.  
The man’s thigh beside you jabbed against your own and you felt shivers tingle down your spine, pinpricks waking you up. Almost. He chewed up on an apology as he heeded his paper cup of coffee and gulped down on his own life's regrets.

There was never a day that was not so rough, running on the thin line of giving up but also falling back into your safety net as you realise that there would never be enough out there.

There was a convenience store crippling and drought in a rough area of town, swallowed up by the teetering tower of offices that lounged about it. You, a girl, slender, weak, under-powered, and drained by the society’s schematics, work at this place that makes you lethargic as the days roll on by. Usually behind closed doors where you presume your early hours wasting by, staring stone-eyed at the flickering retro TVs televising the security cameras dotted around the store, in which is somewhat a huge contrast to its dank exterior.

The whole room seemed to drip in white and creamy hues, a pristine air seemed to linger much like a pharmacy or a hospital. It was clean, cut and precise, you made it so, like the normalcy of each item lined and neat between its clone.

The main role you inhabit, you inhabited for three years now, is stock and security, not much to do but check on the items that itched your sight and attempting to seek for something new that never came. Then when all was sorted, tidied and somewhat sufficient enough for the dwindling customers to not think twice about the plentiful hard work you placed in each item but only to skirt over to whatever their lazy eyes may come across next, you crawl heftily back to your cupboard, dark and gloomy, with the televisions being the only light of life within the room, if you could call that life.

_Today, today was going to be different._ You said this to yourself, often enough it grew tired but there was a renewing sense of fibre that bounced off your tone this time, a spark in your heart that only confirmed so.  
  
“It's a slow day, today.”

The sound of the door never occurred to you but the peppery dry sound of your manager’s meagre voice drew sharp, emptying the room cold.  
Propping down your lunch, consisting only of a sandwich and a packet of crisps. _Great nothing new there_ , you thought to yourself as you dismissed it with a fleeting gaze. Kicking your feet off the table and sweeping the crumbs that danced down your skirt you pounced at the opportunity that your boss was there.

“You think I could go out to have a proper lunch for once since it's hot and all.”

It was the last specks of a fruitful summer. You assumed so anyway, as the majority of the hot dingy days were filled in this stuffy room. The sweat rolled tirelessly from your forehead and he just looked at you bemused. Another day of nothingness and hopelessness.

“You never know- haven't I said that from time to time? You never know who’s going to walk through them doors, you hear?”

You nod, stiffened by the long fixated stares at the TVs.

“Right well, here.”

His ratty face scrunched up as he grunted and threw a bag onto the table making the rattling sounds pitch throughout the whole room.

“Some entertainment and some decent food while you're at it.”

Looks like Tom, your fellow co-worker, will be at the storefront for the rest of the day.  
A sigh hitched and rested between your heart and lungs, you never seemed to let go.

Opening up the bag you see that your manager’s definition of ‘decent’ was far from your own, or anyone’s for that matter. There, lounging at the hollowing plastic bag was a large packet of sweets, a Diet Pepsi and what seemed to be a cold packet of fries from the local fast food joint, all hitched against an oil soaked gossip magazine. You felt your own shoulders creep in on itself.  
Another long winded day, to what expense?  
  
Picking at the dirt on the screen in front of you, wondering when _The Boss_ would ever upgrade the system into something more worthy and modern. The fuzz and static ran as the VCR scraped continuously, the silence underneath was unbearable, the sound of the screeching was the only thing that kept you going.  
A figure smooth with a pretence came in casually, through the double doors. The bells ring and you hear the chime echo into the back where you sat. You stumbled at his appearance, amused at the streak of green that curled neatly above his undercut. He sees Tom at the cash register who seemed to mouth a hello, he reacts with a smile that melted into a small laugh, there was something new and profound that was born from the fading cracks and hollows bestowed somewhere beneath your rib cage, where it reached your heart with a spark. That smile, it does things, he could only imagine, you could only tell.

A finger traced his bottom lip in thought, he jested to a line of small products of dry goods then shook his head, without warning you smiled at that, caught in your own act you cough it off and allowed your eyes to ponder around the rest of the storefront. Clean, cold and cut with no others in sight. An excuse maybe just to watch the stranger who now is arching down poking and picking up random items that seemed impossibly useless until he chooses them with purpose. You see he had picked various ingredients, he was baking something, biscuits, a cake maybe.

He broke away from the cash register and vanished in between the doors, you hear the all knowing dangling of bells once more before the whole store seemed to resume its coldness and growing eerie silence that has been brandishing your soul for all the years you have slaved here.  
But something grew deep, a small itching hope that tickled your well-being, it was minuscule, a size of an ant, but there was no doubting, it was there.

 

**ii.**

* * *

  
It was not divinity, stars aligning ever so slightly that an obtuse obstruction occurs in a singular being, in other words, destiny. No, it was none such thing. It was an impeccably small ounce of hope that bounced to and fro from the walls of your heart and it projected itself enough, that you felt yourself hurling your mind away attempting to forget the spinning sensation of what one stranger could do to you- has done to you. You thought, back in your dampening room that well, it might as well have been a small show, piece of entertainment as it was, but now you were back to your hard-earning life, the thing is, in all truth, you knew deep down something was occurring, blooming through the rust and dirt and burying self-grief. Afterall, there was not much left out there that kept you feeling anything other than the mysterious sticky texture on the bottom of someone’s shoe. You see yourself as that mysterious sticky texture on someone’s shoe an awful lot these days, and not a lot has changed that. Until the man with the outrageously green streak in his hair appeared. Cliché, but there of, you felt it strongly, nevertheless.

It was precisely two weeks before his second occurrence became something phenomenal through the gloomy days that preached on. You were in the middle of a rare occasion, stocking. Actually, it was such a rare moment, spreading out the birthday cards from the Christmas cards to the anniversary cards, it was rare as you spent the whole day there. Well, really, if you were being honest with yourself you dragged the day out as much as you could. Anything was better than swimming in the shallow waters of gloominess and entrapped by four small concrete walls. You hated that room, detested it. It was swamped with all the negative intuitions and exasperation you had felt for all of your life there.

“Sorry.” You hear a man speak from your right.

You mumbled a _no, it's fine_ before automatically getting up and stepping aside sliding away from the cards, feeling a little hostile as you were not sure what your excuse for staying out in the _White Room_ will be next.

“No, um I mean it's fine. Do you have a birthday card for a girl?”  
  
_Well_ , you thought to yourself, _any card could be for a girl, for a boy or any gender in between for that matter, the card industry has such a fat wallet and so far up this capitalistic economy’s ass, it's paying rent to patriarchy._

“Sure, right in this section, sir.”

Gesturing to the collective mess you were just accompanying yourself to, there was a small instinctive tingle to look up, you know that tingle right? That itch, that feeling of shivers down your spine when you know someone is looking at you. Animal instinct, predator versus prey. Natural, really.

Then, bolts were screwed into the side of your head, stones rolled deeply in the very pits of your stomach. He was pretty something up close. The man with the green streak in his hair.

There was a somewhat thin layer of beard growing around his jawline cut clean against his neck. His warmth caught and entrapped in his bewitching blue eyes, something that was simultaneously hard to look away from but not quite something you could directly look at yourself, not for too long anyway.  
He was still looking at you, drilling holes into your face.

“Stupid, isn't it?”

_What is?_ You felt the air drift tightly around you restricting any form of speech. It was as if the atmosphere resembled the concrete small room. The panic broke into masses, the trembling couldn't be handled.

“It's 2017, and these cards-” he holds up one, for example, a specifically glittery one made of fairies, pink-palooza and curly writing that it was indefinite whether L’s were C’s and the C’s were L’s, it almost made your head ache. “The fact I could tell it's so obviously for a girl is a huge problem in this society. If it weren't for the fact that my friend specifically asked for ‘a card for girls.’ I wouldn't have asked.”

You nodded in agreement, of course, you agreed, you had so much to offer into the conversation yet that entrapment breached into your head, making any form or recollection of thoughts or memories stuck in a jam.

“I agree with you completely.”

He nodded as if realising and understanding what was at hand.

“So…”

“So.” You repeated under your breath, looking at where he laid his hands into the thicket of pinks and dark washes of colours that were supposed for boys, tracing his hand movements softly with the lifting of your eyes, he plucked out a white card. It was embellished with gold cut font and had balloons that matched with it. Smoke revelled before your stare, was that your mind playing an alarm, he was soon to finish shopping, this meant he will be leaving your presence once more.

“This is an awesome one!” He marvelled at it from afar in his grasp.

“A very awesome one, I like the gold- do you have more I could help you with?” You jabbed in a one mouthful rush, in high hopes.

He laughed uneasily, he was nervous as you felt. he scratched the back of his head, a nervous tick.

“Got any balloons, maybe?”

“Sure.”

You paced around the already small store enough to feel his hot bated breath close by and his presence warming your own.

Closing down to the floor you select the last golden balloons and started to automatically make way to the cash register, you eyed Tom he reflected a doomed looked but perked up when he caught on, switching glances between you and the mysterious man he let out a playful wink and a cheeky laugh and you winced at your own painful embarrassment. He slithered out behind of the counter and made room for you.

Right on queue, you ask the customer, “Do you want me to ring those in for you?”

He smiled, and _god_ , it was as if the stars had landed on earth and shined bright before you. “Please.” He murmured with a sheepish grin perking his cheeks with the holes of his dimples.

You hear the chronic beeps and ticks per item but with a pace as a snail.

“Is this for anyone special then?”

Another poke at what could possibly deflate in seconds, you risk a tryout of a small talk anyway.

“Yeah uh,” he laughs uneasily once more, “a close friend.”

You nod as you assess him wondering why he was so nervous.

As if spoken out loud he mentions while picking at his beard, “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

You're dazed, in a trance that never could be forgotten.

“No, I- I want to talk to you more, properly. The funny thing is, I talk a lot and I mean a LOT.” He laughed, a rich one rinsed with everything sweet.

“But when I'm talking to, well you know…”

You didn't know.  
Strangers?  
People working at retail attempting awkward small talk?  
Someone that he thought was pretty? You brushed off the last one like old dust, you could never think of yourself better.

You gave a small sweet smile and handed him his bag in which you waited to roll in the new receipt paper before sending him off, an attempt to make words out of thin air.

“I get that.”

“Yeah?”

_Yeah. With you._ The thought slid through your mind like a sigh or a breath.

The air spreads and moves freely, a cold touch lightens your blushed cheeks, you rubbed against them instinctively with the palm of your hands.

“You seem like a nice guy, I hope to hear more from you.”

He whistled low and shifted his weight as he broke eye contact with you.

“I hope so too.” It was just a breath mixed within the wind but you heard it well.

Lastly, you gave the receipt and you almost felt the shift in the mood as the temperature dropped and the weight on your shoulders slacked as you weighed every possibility of what was next, in your mind.

He looked at you and you looked back, his eyes crinkled when he smiled and you could see a galaxy where he should be.

“If you need me again… just wave at one of the cameras or something.” You point decisively at the closest one to you, behind the counter.

He tilted his head ever so slightly and gave a bemused smile but a questioned look altogether.

You cough to clarify, you respond to his opened look, “I work mostly out back with stock and watching the cams.”

Giving a sheepish smile you return the counter to your coworker who tried and failed to not look too anticipated by the growing fulfilment you were entangled with.  
  
“I see… that's really cool, actually.”

“How so?”

You didn't think much about your question but he laughed at it. Blush rouged your cheeks. You didn't seem to find the amusement he did, in the job you were partaking.

“You see some interesting characters about, people watching can be quite exciting at times, you know?”

_I guess so, considering that's how I was interested in you._

“That's true, feels a bit creepy at most, though.”

He laughs at that.

“And dull if I'm being honest with you.” You shrug and he laughs some more.

“Fair enough, I agree with both points there. It can be both to an extent but a job is a job, you get money until you’re open enough in life to do something you’re passionate about, maybe then, the money earning isn't as an important factor but a huge bonus from the job you're working at.”

You agreed with that but you wondered if you would ever have that privilege.

“I hope that I have that some day.”

The smile that curls deeply between his lips were subtle and genuine and soft it was as if a warmth stretched through to caress your skin.

“I hope so too.” He repeated his earlier statement.

He heaves a heavy sigh, letting out the wrung up and terse conversation that was enclosed. “See you, then!”

You give him a short wave and a gleeful grin before slumping into a posture that dug deep into your soul. 

 

**iii.**

* * *

  
The days have become brighter as if the sun reached up to its full potential overnight, the birds cheerier with their tunes, the smiles drew deeper with each passing customer, and there is laughter that has become music to your ears, a glistening breeze and satisfaction after a long day of work. Of course, in reality, nothing has changed, not really. A switch in perspective has done wonders to a lot of people. The sun has not really become more flaunt with its flares, the birds are still murmuring their chitter chatter as they usually do and the laughs you hear each day were the ones you once winced at when they interfere with your trepidation for the murky shallowness of contempt. Of course, that needn't to matter, as this has been the happiest moments you have had in a very long time.  
  
Each day was a crimson masterpiece, blood red full of flushed sunshine, miraculous daydreams and heart skipping a race for the crowd. You were in love with the idea of love, you were in your own little spectacle untouched by the purity of reality. What was really real? That did not matter, you were full of it.  
And maybe there really was beauty in the stolen glances that started the infrastructure of imaginary tales, after all, who's to say it would not happen at all?

_8:55am. Goddamn, those numbers._  
You rubbed your eyes until you saw blinding stars, and sleeping dust seemed to residue from the tips of your stare.

“That tired, huh?”

Tom gave a goofy grin but he couldn't say much himself, as his own dull face sagged against the limelight of the _White Room_. You wondered if your manager would ever mix up both your shifts so you needn't see his ugly mug this often. You laughed at the thought of it. It wasn't that he wasn't unattractive, it was that there were no layers left to hide the hideous inside that delved in him. He was a mess made by a man. The blistering store lights didn't help his story.

The store was in the mix of straddling wanderers that came weaving in and out through the main doors like a maze without an end. They didn't pick anything up, and in your mind’s eye, you suspect they were just killing time before work, not even considering of buying anything in the first place. Lingering eyes only.

Therefore, this is why you resulted in slouching over the white counter top that had a mix of skittles and fizzy bottles to decorate it. Your neck itched with the occasional stitch but the stench of your laziness reeked from the other side of the room. Tom’s personality? Well, did I forget to say it was particularly contagious like that? You have been around him enough, you knew that your gut didn't need to tell you so, but social life came sparing in this little ol’ store in town.

“Aren’t you, though?”

Tired, you mean.

He flicked a yellow skittle off the counter where it bounced upon the tiled floor, hitting a customer’s shoe who then threw waves of dirty looks your way.  
Tom mouthed a sorry and laughed it off, you looked at him in distaste.

“Well, yeah, went to that party last night, didn't I?”

The party you were supposed to go to.

The one you found a heavy double-locked excuse not to go to.

You almost forgot about this party.

The work party.

“Oh yeah, how was that?”

You allowed your eyes to linger bouncing between each occupant in the store to the next, trying to spark as much of disinterest you could muster, he wouldn't fall for it, he never does, but you do it anyway.

“A-MAZING.” He made explosion noises as he expanded his hands into an outward motion to resemble it.

“What happened, that made it so _amazing_?” You allowed a contempt giggle to surpass your lips.

“He... kissed all the girls, drank all my beer and just before he passed out on the curb he threw up the remnants of such on my car’s hood.”

Startled to hear the boss’ voice so early in the morning you almost got thrown off by his ratty features pouring down all his sourness into you as you turned to face him.

“My _baby_ , if I may add.”

His arms were crossed in a tight vice, his pointed look now locked onto Tom, where you could almost hear an audible gulp.

“I better go out back now.”

Feeling your own forehead suddenly become moist through the dangerous waters you just stepped upon.

“You better…”

Your manager said through clenched teeth, he was still looking at your coworker as if he was fresh meat. But you felt his words like ice down your spine.

You looked back as you slowly padded away, Tom caught your eye, you cupped your mouth and worded “good luck” before winking at him, you could almost see his tremble.

Only for a second did you feel sorry for him but as you turned and faced the door to your doom, back into the rotting walls of the security room, you felt yourself gulp.  
In no way is your situation any better.  
It never felt like it had been.  
You were enveloped in darkness once more, the stench of damp and sweat havoc the scene you stepped upon. Though your nose wrinkled instinctively every time, you were completely used to it by now.

 

_3:23pm. As per usual, I've been stuck in here all day._

It was a tedious action, _well_ , you thought to yourself, _not exactly an action is it? When you sit around doing nothing all day._  
  
A yawn escaped you, reached the tips of your fingers and toes and you felt almost curling in on yourself. Then something caught your eye.  
  
He was just standing there, in front of one of the many CCTV cameras that were dotted around the store. This one in a small corner in the freezer section. He was standing beside your favourite ice cream.  
  
The man with the green streak in his hair.

Only this time he had something in his hands.  
He rolled out a smile, his pure whites not to be confused by the shining moon you see every night. He lifts up what was pecking at your curiosity.

“Hey.” It starts to read. They were messages on large white cards, even the thought of it makes your heart trip on itself.

“Hey. Hope you are having a great day!” He looks down at his perfectly cursive handwriting and grins a goofy smile as he prods each word and in doing so smirks back at you through the camera.

He laughs to himself making, in turn, you laugh. Your heart suddenly feels slightly lighter.

After a few seconds of shuffling there is the next card glaring at the lens.

“Sorry… I forgot you can't reply.” He rubs the back of his head and laughs it off comically only making your cheeks hurt more from grinning so much.

 

Exactly one week later. Funny enough.

He came back, the same occurrence, the same struck of gold appeared before your eyes.

“I forgot to introduce myself.” He was in front of the same camera, you have a feeling that this might be a new beginning to a cute tradition between the two of you.

“My name is Sean.”

_Sean._  
You repeated.  
_I like the sound of that._

 

This time you anticipated his return. Brandished with new beginnings and hopeful lies unspoken to yourself.  
Pacing between the thick grey walls, hovering between scraping dirt off your table and biting your nails raw you assessed yourself and evaluated that you might have gone crazy, insane but the spur of the moment of one man’s existence bumping into your own.  
Or what your mother would have called it, _love_. Has changed you, made you bounce on your heels in delight and smile at nothingness.  
No doubt it, he was there in his usual spot, the exact same day of the week, at the exact same time. He was there, he always was, you trusted in that fact, you became expected of it, you even looked forward to it.  
Days became more fruitful because of him, and weren't you grateful?

“Today’s reminder: ‘Dreams are not achieved by doing nothing all day, it is achieved through action.”

He always presented a line of inspiration to you, as if he knew you needed that all along, and of course you agreed and believed all of his advice.

Each week was:

_“Always be kind to others.”_

_“Be kind and love yourself, you work hard and should always appreciate that.”_

_“If you have a dream, pursue it with all your might. There is no pain in trying, only pain through regret.”_

_“You are the most important thing, you before anyone else. don't forget that.”_

The thing is, everything has a turn, everything has an expiring date. All good things come to an end.  
Isn't life rotten that way?

 

It was closing in December now. November has been rough, made so much rougher when Sean ceased to appear, no more, no warning. Just gone.  
  
You attempted to not allow it to faze you, but there was no lying the shambles of a heartbreak was there, raw and rough, it zapped all your energy until you were nothing but dust.

There was a flow of days, slouching through the automated doors, ignoring customers and coworkers alike to only slump into the squeaky ransacked chair you knew all too well and to then throw yourself straight into bed after work, too tired to reach for any self-worth. Then the clock threw itself forward and the next day appears, and lo and behold, it occurs again and again. But shouldn't you have been used to it by now? You thought to yourself that you should, these resembled the days of pre-Sean… only it felt worse, once you have licked the fruits of hope dry.

 

It only got worse from there.  
  
In late December when the rain poured it’s deepest remorse into the streets of England and you resembled washed up broken rocks thrown at sea, you felt your life halt and skid.

Your boss, had a scrutinising but sad face as he peddled himself into your room, phone dripping in his lazy hands, eyes locked on yours. He passes the dreaded phone. You had no idea what was in store. You wished you never found out.

It wasn't hearing the news that was the worst part. It was being allowed to go home, in your lonesome and get sucked into the screaming vortex of self-wallowing doing the worst work for you.

It was being so sick from hearing it, from swimming in the influx of overthinking and mourning that you broke into a sickness that entangled its arms into a permanent chain of depression.

It was not being able to see any light for a very long time.  
  


_O let it be, I am far gone already. Unheeded by life’s little remorse and Death’s cold, empty but welcoming hands, engulfing me whole. I kissed him as he cried to me, “goodnight.”_

 

**iv.**

* * *

  
_Snow._  
  
The first thought of the morning when you decided to open the curtains of your room, may do some good for once.  
  
It was no surprise, that the apartment you inhabited felt it's worse through the night, washed in a tidal wave and now decided to freeze over. Didn't help that the heating broke as soon as it felt your tender touch hit the dial.  
  
Slouching on the cold folds of your sofa, wrapped in all the outerwear you could find- feet doubled knotted with two pairs of socks, a fluffy hat caged your head, and your hand cuffed with two stuffy mittens. You matched the bland walls with your stare, unmoving and daring, as it did every day. Your cold was worse also, something that came weaving in and out from your piss-poor health due to lax depression.  
  
You had no reason to do something and every reason to do nothing.

Some days you were grateful that you lived alone, no condescending stares to guilt-trip you and judge you through your hardship, but at most days you felt your chest break and prey sharp claws within you, the loneliness was breathtaking and heartbreaking.

You felt the luckiest when the family came over, to check on you, after all, they had also lost something. Once they left though, it had felt they sucked every recuperating sense back to the ground where it had grown. The smallest light turned on when they came, but it was never nearly enough for you to feel life hold hands with you once more.

  
“Your pizza is on its way, have a great day!”

You clicked the phone and counted fingers, losing track as to how many deliveries you had ordered that month and how much money you could pull off before forcing your way back to work once again.

After a while, you got senseless from staring at the walls impatiently waiting for the food that your stomach was eager to receive but you yourself thought as a mere deadline in another meaningless day to arrive. You started to amble your way around your apartment with no sense of direction. Until, until you found yourself propped up in front of your dusty laptop, untouched and uncared for, for as long as you could remember. There was no reason for it, no motive for you to have it in the first place. You lost all thought at updating random strangers about your life once you realised how boring it was, to begin with.

While opening YouTube, you considered if there were any cat videos you had not seen yet, there was a knock on the door. Getting money for a tip for the pizza, you hurried to the door.

But a surprise broke your chain of thought.

You couldn't believe it after not seeing a soul apart from your family and the delivery guys that came knocking on your door every day of the month.

“Tom…”

He had a small graze of a beard coming along, a shadow that smudged around his pale cold lips. There was a sad and cautious smile breaking his cumbersome face.

“How you been? I mean it's been a while…”

You swayed an arm over, serving looks to your messy but empty apartment inviting him in first.

He nodded, carefully and slowly took himself in.

“Do you want a drink?”

“A cuppa would be amazing right now.”

You smiled politely in return and almost felt the stiffening in your joints refrain you from acting like a normal human.

Humanoid more like it.

“Thanks.” He blew the steam that spilt into his face, you felt your hands tremble watching his doing so. “Bloody cold in here.”

“Yes sorry, heating's been broken all day, been meaning to sort it out.”

His eyes suddenly darted at you as if what he just said dissolved into the functioning part of his mind.

“I didn't mean- I, I'm sorry.”

You got up, dusted off your lap out of habit or maybe just to do something with yourself. You made your way back to the kitchen to clean up the dishes that you supposed was way overdue.

“It's fine. What are you doing here, Tom?”

Might as well get it over and done with. What's the point of tiptoeing around his existence on being here?

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You hear him shuffle in his seat then he made his way facing you from the opposite side of the sink’s counter.

“This.” He gives you a small slip of paper, ripped and torn at the edges, just as smudged and broken as you felt.

Wiping away the water that rinsed your hands, dutifully, you take it.

“What is it?”

“It was from that guy.”

“Who?”

You made your way around sitting at the island’s long lengthy stools.

“The guy with the green hair or whatever.”

Nothing could have prepared you for it, after all, he disappeared without a word more than a month ago, there was no trace of him, you thought he left for good.

“He came in every so often, a few weeks after you took leave.”  
  
He swatted the steam from his cup then implored at his drink as if reading his tea leaves for a reading on his life, disinterested at the conversation.

You had no words for that.

“He was looking for you, actually.”  
  
Or _that._

_For what reason could he possibly-_

You suddenly felt like you wanted to be alone again just you and the crumpled up piece of paper that suddenly felt like the holy grail to your existence.

“Why?”

“Beats me. You two had a thing or something?”

“No…” Not really.

It was the pizza man that rapped the door the second time that day, startling you both out of your skins, that broke your co-worker's reverie and reminding him that his lunch break was ending soon.

With the speed that ran its length and deteriorated throughout the time you spent lounging at home, came whirling back you briskly broke out a plate, a real ceramic plate, not one of the paper ones that you have now grown adjusted to. Slamming a slice of pizza down and running to your room, back in the desk’s chair, you remained there until the winks of the stars peeped out as the moon shined and nighttime rolled in.

It was then when the piece of paper shaking in your hands and now soiled with tears melting words into blotches of ink, you believed something had been awoken. Something that was hibernating for a while now.

You opened up your laptop, it broke the darkness that consumed the room with its meditating hovering light.

You type, what was scribbled at the bottom of the letter: youtube.com/user/jacksepticeye into the search bar. Inhaling a deep breath you press, ‘Enter’.

It was just like he wrote.

 

> _Hi.  
> _  
>  _I firstly want to say sorry. I want to say that because I know I haven't visited you in the store in a long time, without a reason given to you, but trust me the true real reason would make sense to you all in due time._  
>  _  
>  I also wanted to mention that I stopped by at the store a few times recently and been told you haven't come in for a while now, they told me why._  
>  _I'm truly really sorry, if I could do anything at all to help, I would give you that and more._  
>  _  
>  Please stay strong._  
>  _  
>  Maybe, maybe it was a good time that my big project has started now of all times._  
>   
> Have a look for yourself, here's the link - youtube.com/user/jacksepticeye
> 
> _I really am sorry for everything and I'm sorry again for not coming back soon._
> 
> _Best wishes,_
> 
> _Sean_

 

A big project, indeed.  
  
He had a YouTube. It was all embellished in bright green, a septic eye, a bit on the nose, that resembled his name, was his mascot for the channel.  
  
And wasn't the channel blooming?  
  
You marvelled at it, blinking back the bright lights that shone drastically against the darkening of your pitch black room. You clicked onto the first video that he made.  
Where then you bore into the delicate vibrancy of his big blue eyes.

“TOP OF THE MORNIN’ TO YA LADDIES. I am Jacksepticeye, welcome to this all brand spanking new gaming channel! Hello hello!” He smiles radiating a warmth that satisfied you whole, and your own mouth’s tips crack upwards.

“I firstly want to say before everything else that this channel would not be here- WOULD NOT EXIST!” He twists an arm up to the sky, pointing to the invisible clouds, exaggerating words and pumping full of energy into them.   
  
“Without this girl. A girl, that tore through each day with a burning chance that maybe the normalcy and boredom would soon rearrange itself into something more beautiful and passionate. I saw that passion in her, I saw that motivation and it motivated me! Which is what I want to do for all of you out there!” Another smile from him, a tear touched your cheek with a startling realisation.

“She is incredible, strong and amazing and I want to be just like that for all of you who need the strength yourself… for _her_   who needs a reminder of how strong she is, from time to time. The thing is… I'm going to be truthful to you all.” He comes inching closer to the screen and you felt him looking deep into your soul.

“Let's be serious for a second. This channel is for her, it's dedicated to her because I don't want her to lose who she is because she lost all sense of happiness through how society allowed her to be, or more like how they made her be.”

You allowed your eyes to close, tears flowed deep enough to cleanse the darkness that resided in you.  
You wept for a while, long enough for the video to the end and long enough for the sun to peek up from the horizon. You were bleached in strong orange hues that radiated from the crack of your curtains and you felt its warmth cradle you kindly.

The next day after that, you walked into the store.  
Nothing had changed, but simultaneously, the aura surrounding it, broke out a new sense to you, it was a very alienating feeling that made you feel like you stumbled upon somewhere new entirely.

You welded with the boss in his small crooked room he called his office. It wasn't until after, you had to explain your previous leave of absence once again and leaving a resignation letter you wrote the night before, decorated his empty desk. You left without another say but you knew it was a mutual agreement in the end.

You never thought you would write it but you did and even the predicament itself gave way to a wave of euphoria.

“Hey!” You were looking into the distance, feeling the energy of a new you take over when you saw him.

“Sean?”

“Been a while!” His face was made of dreams and undiscovered galaxies.

“Hasn't it?” A smile you finally could call your own washing up your dried up face.

“Where you off to?”

“I just quit. You inspired me.”

“Oh?”

Trouble played his lips but he looked genuinely pleased.

“You were right, in the video I mean, even if you didn't really say it in words. I was fighting a losing battle, plus I found a job elsewhere, one that played with my passion.”

“And what's that?”

“You’ll see.” You dared a wink and he laughed, you couldn't help but catch it.

“Will I see you again?”

“You can always come by and visit my new job.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

You nodded enthusiastically, “of course!”

“And I'll keep making more videos for you then.”

You felt everything and more as he clutched onto your arms into a breathtaking hug.

“Well done.”

He whispered and tickled your ear. You closed your eyes, feeling his embrace and smiled at him as you let go and walked out of the store.

It was then when the wind whipped your face, that you realised, that you finally felt it, _freedom_.


End file.
